


A Past He Can't Out Run

by Xidaer



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Caine Whump, F/M, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 16:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13127067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xidaer/pseuds/Xidaer
Summary: Caine Wise is just trying to do his duty in protecting Jupiter, but when  madman from his past comes and captures him, it's Caine who will need saving.Part of the JA Secret Santa 2017





	A Past He Can't Out Run

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bemusedlybespectacled (ardentintoxication)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentintoxication/gifts).



> This fic was written for the JA Secret Santa 2017 event. The prompt was Jupiter/Caine, Caine!whump, line of duty.

Caine surveyed the small moon Valentrix from the deck of the Ergo. The moon, orbiting a gas giant, was lush around its equator with red deserts leading up into the poles’ small ice caps. Deep canyons cut across the surface, visible with the naked eye from where he stood. He’d been lucky to get an Aegis escort on a mission this routine with his reinstatement still pending and Captain Tsing watching over Jupiter on Earth.

Jupiter’s security was paramount since the presumed death of Balem and the crimes of Titus made her and Kalique the sole heirs to the Abrasax empire. While able to give Jupiter the broad strokes of how this new-to-her universe ran and help make judgements of best help to hire, they’d both been running themselves ragged trying to get up to speed. For all that he was a good soldier, the internal machinations of the regenex business were beyond him.

That was the reason he was here. A lesser Entitled, Giavale, had made an offer to introduce Jupiter to ventures outside of regenex. It made sense to diversify into other fields if one couldn’t compete with the Abrasax or other major players in the Regenex market- or, in Jupiter’s case, if one didn’t want to participate in that market to begin with. While the Aegis said Giavale checked out, Caine didn’t trust that recommendation for on the ground security.

The Entitled’s alcazar was set on the edge of a cliff in a red stone canyon. The striations along the walls indicated a deep body of water once flowed through there. Caine briefly wondered during one of his many flights of the area if the remains of the river rushing through the canyon were natural or if it had been terraformed that way, the source of water somehow stymied to create a canyon for an Entitled’s aesthetics. No matter the answer, it was a rush to zip through the narrow canyon, the wind whistling over his feathers as the moon’s low gravity made his boots nearly redundant.

Everything had looked good as the Aegis had promised. Giavale had struck Caine as blunt, obviously hungry for the resources Jupiter could provide. He’d pressed Caine for official sheaths of her holdings, something to confirm the new wealth from her ‘sons’, but he sidestepped the Entitled’s request. Knowing the true depths of Jupiter’s pockets would put her at a disadvantage. While they wanted to be tutored by someone savvy, it paid to be cautious as someone so new to galactic trade. He’d just sent off his final report from his wrist transmitter and was contemplating another flight when his host approached.

“Enjoying the view?” Giavale asked, pitching his voice to carry over the waterfall that roared over the edge of the patio into the canyon.

“Yes, thank you,” Caine said inclining his head slightly. It didn’t hurt to make polite banter with someone who would soon be their trading partner, but as Giavale stepped closer into Caine’s personal space he felt the need to put more distance between them.

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Mr. Wise?” his host said, moving forward again.

Caine felt backed into a corner, literally at the edge of the patio and the precipice of the waterfall. He started mentally preparing himself to take flight. “Not at all,” he lied, “just considering a flight.” If this was how Giavale was going to begin their negotiations, Caine was going to have to amend his final report.

“Good!” Giavale said, clapping him on the upper arm. Caine’s confusion at the intrusion was quickly answered as a shock went through the golden circuitry lining his bicep. Suddenly his wings were just dead weight behind him. Overbalanced and in shock at the sudden lack of sensory input, Caine didn’t react in time as Giavale shoved him over the edge of the waterfall.

The water was shockingly cold, and knocked the breath from his body. Caine was barely able to slow his descent enough with his boots to not be smashed into a pulp as he crashed into the rushing river at the bottom of the canyon. The water was deeper than he had realized, leading him to tumble end over end in the current. Knocked into rocks as it carried him downstream, Caine couldn’t get his bearings and only just made it to the surface to gasp for air before being pulled under again.

As the water calmed, Caine crawled to shore, wings dragging behind him. He coughed up water as he laid on his side trying to recover his breath. His transmitter was damaged, crushed against one of the many rocks, leaving him unable to call for help or tell Jupiter of the impending trap. He wasn’t sure what Giavale had to gain from double crossing them, but he was damn sure that Jupiter would bring her full fury against him. 

Over the sound of the river, the familiar noise of a ship crept in. Caine looked up to find a ship almost too large for the canyon uncloaking. Before he could stand he was caught in a tractor beam, being lifted into its dark hull. Activating his boots, Caine tried to break free, but they were still too waterlogged to overpower its force. Caine was pulled into darkness and with a sharp prick he knew nothing after that.

*** 

The first thing Caine noticed as he slowly came to his senses was the ache in his shoulders and knees. He was bound to a cold metal deck, kneeling with his arms strung up towards opposite corners of the room taking all his weight as he’d been unconscious. His wings still hung limp behind him and he could hear the whisper of his feathers sweeping the ground as he shifted. A spotlight glared directly over him, hiding the details of his prison.

A figure of a man stepped into the light and towered as a silhouette above him. He grabbed Caine’s hair and yanked his head back. “Welcome to the world of the living, Mr. Wise,” said a cruel, mocking voice. 

“Where-,“ Caine started coughing, throat unexpectedly parched. He worried about how long he’d been unconscious. “Where am I?”

“Where indeed, Mr. Wise. Suffice to say we’re moving further away from Valentrix and from your friends, the Aegis,” the man said, not letting go of his hair. Caine squinted into the light, trying to make out more detail. There was nothing in the man’s outline to indicate he was a splice but more than that Caine couldn’t make out. He felt a growl starting deep in his chest and snapped up at the offending hand. Reprisal was a swift slap echoing through the room. “Now, now, Mr. Wise, try not to let those offending teeth get you into trouble again.”

“Who are you?” Caine asked ignoring the throb in his cheek. He could tell it wasn’t Giavale, but something about this man still smelled familiar.

“I’m almost hurt you could forget about me. But no matter, after we’re done there’s going to be plenty for you to remember.” With that the man released Caine’s hair and walked out of the light, boots echoing as he walked behind Caine and out of the room.

With his unknown assailant gone, Caine took stock of his situation. The irritating patch was still on his bicep, unreachable with his teeth, so his wings were out of commission. The tops of his feet were cold and naked against the deck of the ship. He could feel the hum of the engines, likely placing his prison in close proximity and unfortunately putting him deep in the bowels of most ships. If this was same one that had taken him, it must have been sturdier than it had looked from the canyon. The only way it could have avoided the Aegis would have been to jump from atmosphere. His captor was either reckless - doubtful - or had been in collusion with Giavale long before Caine’s visit to check security.

Without his skyjacker boots he felt particularly vulnerable. Not even the tribunal who sentenced him to the Badlands had stripped him of them. It was a complicated and dangerous process to remove the boots once they’d integrated with their owner. He’d ate, slept, and fucked in those boots. Only one person had seen his feet since they’d gone on. Jupiter had convinced him that she wanted to see all of him and he’d relented.

Now he was naked except for distillation pants covering him from hip to knee. There would be no escaping by claiming a need to relieve himself and no indecent smells for his Entitled captor to endure. There was no doubt that he was an Entitled. Only someone with considerable resources would be able to bribe or bully his way into another noble’s alcazar with a ship that could outrun the Aegis.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the door opened again. A lit hover cart with some sort of hydraulic press was pushed into his field of view by a flat faced, undecorated android. His boots were standing beneath the raised press weight.

“I considered melting them into slag, but thought better of it,” said his captor from behind him. “How would your dear recurrence know what they used to be?”

The android placed the boots on their side and turned on the press. Its base and above weight heated to white hot to ease the crushing of his beloved grav boots. There was a metallic whine as the two shoes ground into one another. The heat softening the metal didn’t stop pieces from snapping off. Small pieces pinged into the walls Caine still couldn’t see, never to fly on their differential equations again. One shattered out at Caine, slashing his cheek. Blood spilled down from the gash, dripping into the corner of his mouth and down his chest . The taste of blood and the smell of his captor finally clicked a memory in place.

“It’s you. You’re the one that I bit,” The cursed Entitled who caused Caine to be stripped and clipped in the first place.

Bitter laughter rang out, “Finally he remembers. Yes, you filthy runt, you ‘bit’ me, tore out my throat like a rabid dog. The Badlands was supposed to destroy you, a lycan without even the skyjackers as a pack, but here you are, rising back in status pretending that you’re duty-bound to the Abrasax name.”

The boots were held up by the android when the press finally finished its work, mangled beyond all repair but still recognizable as once being on Caine’s feet. With that grim picture burned into his brain, Caine was left alone again to stew. He felt childish, mourning the loss of his boots, and tried to remind himself that while his training had revolved around them the military foundations were still there and his mind was still sharp. This was only an attempt to break his morale before the first blow of more physical tortures yet to come.

***

He was given no provisions, no water. Kept always illuminated, it was impossible to gauge more of his surroundings. It was similarly impossible to keep track of the days with his sleep fitful, neck cricked at odd angles when he'd wake. No one came to check on him when he yelled or to tell him to stop. So he stopped on his own trying to conserve his strength. All he could do was wait until an opportunity presented itself for escape or at the very least to send a distress signal.

***

Caine startled awake at the sound of the door whooshing open. “Gag him,” said his captor to an android. It none too gently followed the command, wrenching Caine’s stiff neck as it stuck a leather bit between his teeth.

Pulling up a screen, the Entitled started a FTL transmission. He didn’t have to wait long to be connected to Jupiter. “Your majesty, I assume you received my gift and read my proposal.”

“You mean your ransom demands? Yes, I’ve read them and there’s no way in hell I’m giving you anything.”

“Come now, your majesty, I’m not looking for planets, just for the finished Regenex that you so abhor.”

“Fuck you. If you harm him…,” Jupiter threatened.

“You’ll do what? He’s just a splice, one without an official position in the Aegis or your entourage. The most you’ll be able to do is file a tax grievance, and a minor one at that,  
if you could even prove that he was your property.”

“How do I know he’s even alive?” Her voice was strong but Caine could hear the slight tremble in it.

“Ah, yes, proof of life.” He angled the screen to bring Caine into view.

He struggled as he saw her, trying to shout encouragement through the gag. It wasn’t worth negotiating with this madman, who sought revenge with the Regenex as a pleasant afterthought. Whether she understood him or not wasn’t certain, but she couldn’t stop her gasp at his chains, taking in his lifeless wings, dark bruises from the river, and the dried blood on his face and chest.

“You- ,“ she began cursing him in untranslatable Russian.

“Temper, temper, your Majesty. We’ll talk again soon.” With that the Entitled ended the transmission and turned off the screen. “I think another gift is in order,” he said clapping his hands together. “Remove the inhibitor.”

The android immediately came up from behind and ripped the damnable patch from his bicep. Pain flooded through him as sensation poured in again from his over stressed wings. He snapped them out, crashing the android into the nearest wall. His satisfaction was short-lived as his captor darted forward and slapped him across his cut cheek. Wrenching Caine’s head back by his hair, the man said, “Mr. Wise, you’re not living up to your name. I don’t want to break your neck yet, but don’t for one moment doubt that I will break every bone in your offensive body if you so much as twitch in a way I don’t approve of. Do we understand each other?” Caine said nothing through the gag and stared daggers at him. His captor just smirked. “That’s what I thought. We’ll break you soon enough.” With those ominous words, the Entitled and the android left.

He took what grace he’d been given to stretch, extending his wings fully before tucking them securely against his back. The attachment points at his shoulders ached from the strain of dead weight for so many days and finally bringing wings in was a great relief. He could only imagine that he wouldn’t have them for long, what with the patch being ripped off and threats of broken bones in his future. He’d been clipped before, lived half his life without wings before that, he could handle this.

The warning whoosh of the doors sounded again, and several sets of heavy footsteps approached him through the darkness. “Good evening Mr. Wise,” a new voice said stepping into the light. With the beam reflecting off the scales of her bald head, it was clear she was a snake splice. Her soft steps had been hidden among the rest giving him no indication to her presence until she revealed herself. Her crystal laced top bounced flashes of light into his eyes as she moved, and she looked like she’d be more at home as fashion model than in some Entitled’s prison cell. But her mesmerizing golden eyes were indifferent to his plight, their attention captured by the tops of his wings peeking over his shoulders. “Yes,” she said drifting back around behind him, “these will do nicely.”

She directed the three androids around him. The two most intimidating, armored mechs forced his wings open. Caine had begun to struggle when her quiet voice said, “They will break them if you try to move. I would much prefer to work with unmangled flesh.” He stilled, her hushed nonchalance more menacing than all his captor’s snarled threats. She truly didn’t care if he moved or not, just for whatever work she’d been set.

The last android carried a deep crate, not big enough for his wings if they were to be taken whole but larger than any set of torturer’s tools he’d ever seen. He shifted on numb knees, uncertain at what was to come. The crate was set down on the deck with a hollow clang and the woman began by lightly running her hands along his feathers. With the patch gone, he could feel every touch and had to do his best not to flinch away from the intrusion. Just like the boots, the last time anyone had touched him like this, in this parody of intimacy, had been Jupiter. They were tainting their intimacies one by one and he wasn’t even sure if they realized that.

The soft touches transitioned to a firm grip on the shaft of his outermost primary feather. With a sharp yank, she plucked it from its mooring. Caine yelped through the gag, wings spasming. The androids tightened their grip, dreadful in their efficiency. With a whisper, the feather was dropped into the open crate. Caine suddenly knew why it was so large.

She began plucking feathers out, working her way steadily up and inward. The long primaries stung but they were used to being ruffled and yanked in all directions while in flight. It was when she moved to the coverts that the sensation became too much, each one burning as the biometric feedback fried the delicate neural pathways. Caine grit his teeth as much as he could with the gag, but as his torturer moved to the scapular feathers closest to his shoulders he started to shake involuntarily. The chains rattled as his body protested without his consent. He was huffing through his nose trying to breathe through the pain, drool gathering on his chin as he forgot to swallow.

The door opened just as she finished the first wing. “Wonderful work, Ortista. How long do you think it will be before the cloak is ready?” His captor’s voice asked.

“Once I’m done with the second wing, Master Usling, a week, no more.”

“I need it sooner. This is a special gift after all, isn’t it Mr. Wise?” he said stroking his palm along the bare flesh of the denuded wing. A shudder ran through Caine, bile rising at the invasion. Usling gave the wing one last pat before continuing to Ortista, “Double your fee for half the time, three days and a courier direct to the new Lady Abrasax. I trust your work not to need it in my hands first.”

“Of course, my lord. Thank you.” Caine couldn’t see her bow, but knew well enough how the Entitled fed off the acquiescence of subservient splices.

Usling circled him, taking up his favored position in front. Once again he grabbed Caine’s hair, forcing him to lock eyes with him. The light had been widened for Ortista’s work, so he was finally able to see his captor. Greying at the temples, he was a broad, fit man affecting the look of someone in their fifties, though Caine had no way of knowing how old he actually was. His suit was an inky black, plain but fine in material and cut. “Ortista,” Usling said without breaking Caine’s gaze, “please describe to Mr. Wise what you are going to do with his lovely feathers.”

“The shaft and spine of each one will be leafed in gold,” she began, continuing to pluck feathers from his other wing, “encrusted with topaz and garnets. The gradient of gems will imitate a waterfall, rippling as the wearer moves. The original circuitry will be repurposed for minor anti-gravity allowing the cloak to be worn without hardship.”

“Yes, ” Usling said with a feral grin, “do go on.” Caine was breathing heavily again, fighting not to give Usling the satisfaction of his pain. Ortista’s words faded to a background hum, like the hum of the engine beneath his feet, and his world narrowed to pain and his captor’s grin. As tears gathered at the corners of Caine’s eyes, Usling’s grin became even wider. “Do you think she’ll realize what it is at first?” he said cutting off Ortista’s drone. “Or will she be entranced by its beauty? Can you imagine her reaction when the truth cuts through? That those wings you’re so proud of, that skyjackers are so admired for, are naught but a bauble she will own. Stripped and clipped wasn’t good enough for you. Maybe now these wings will finally cause you the pain you deserve.” With that, Usling released his hair, leaving him to slump into his chains and endure the pain the best he could.

The air was frigid as Ortista finished her work, gooseflesh rising along his exposed skin. His beautiful wings were denuded, dripping blood from parts where Ortista had been too enthusiastic in her rush to pluck him clean. The limbs were still attached but now looked like some unholy fowl in need of roasting. As she left, Caine finally let the tears fall as he mourned their loss for the second time in his life.

***

Three days went by as promised as Caine was left in solitude, floating in and out of consciousness. Thirst and hunger gnawed at him leaving Caine to suckle at the leather bit in his mouth in a faint parody of sustenance. His whole body ached, the bruises from him trip down the canyon now in colorful splashes of green, yellow, and still some bits of purple. His wrists chafed from the manacles, the tingling in his hands and knees long faded into a numb respite. Shivering with cold, he barely noticed when the door sounded behind him.

The FTL began again, with Jupiter coming quickly into focus. He could see her disgust, bile rising in her throat as she saw Caine still on his knees behind Usling. “You’re never getting what you want. When we find you-”

“IF you find me, your majesty,” Usling corrected. “I have another gift being prepared for you as we speak. Consider my offer carefully, I’m afraid Mr. Wise doesn’t have much left to give without doing permanent damage.” With that brief exchange, he ended the transmission. 

“Now, Mr. Wise,” Usling said, removing a small, pen-shaped object from his pocket, “I wouldn’t want be found lying to her majesty. Shall we begin?” Caine heard a click from the pen and the last two inches began to glow red hot. There were no androids here to restrain him, only his chains, and he began to struggle, flapping his useless wings and shouting through the gag that had never been removed. None of it stopped Usling from stalking forward and taking a fistful of his hair. “Careful Wise, I wouldn’t want to do *permanent* damage, now would I?”

Caine tried to stiffen his neck, to fight against Usling’s control, but he was too weak from more than a week of neglect. Usling wrenched his head to the side and brought the tool toward his skin. The fine, downy fuzz on the side of his neck caught fire, filling the room with the stench of burning hair. It was soon followed by that of roasting flesh. Caine screamed as Usling began peeling away his splicer’s mark, the tool cauterizing the wound as it went. 

“Did you enjoy my screams, mongrel,” Usling shouted into his ear, “cut short as you ripped my throat? You deserve this, you filthy animal.” Caine couldn’t focus on the words, the pain filling his whole world. His body finally passed out.

As he came to, Caine felt the strip of flesh hanging loosely, bouncing in time with his pulse. His entire perception was narrowed down to the raw, throbbing burn. “Welcome back Mr. Wise,” his captor’s face was flush, skin tinged with sweat. He hadn’t been out for long then. “Shall we continue?” Usling asked, twirling the laser cutter between his fingers.

As his flesh hit the deck with a wet slap, Caine blacked out again and was left mercifully oblivious.

***

Days passed in the unrelenting light. Gnawing hunger ceased to rack his body, and the now slimy gag was his only respite for his parched throat. He was feverish. The angry, raw flesh on the side of his neck was an open wound that no one had bothered to care for and he could smell the rot beginning to set in. It wouldn’t be long until Usling was back for another transmission with Jupiter, just waiting for his latest ‘gift’ to arrive.

Focused as he was internally, it took him time to realize the extra loud hum of the engines. The increase, gradual at first, jumped tremendously. They were accelerating so quickly the engines could barely keep pace, the deck vibrating with the strain. Suddenly everything jerked to the left, a thunderous boom echoing through the walls of the ship. He felt a sickening pop as his shoulder dislocated and the room went dark. 

When the lights came back, they flooded the entire room and Caine could finally see his prison. It had been wide enough to stretch his wings without hitting the far walls but was much narrower than expected, probably some sort of storage bay running the length of the engine room. Blinking owlishly in the light, he heard the doors behind him being pried open.

“Caine!” Jupiter shouted. Like a raging Valkyrie, she had murder in her eyes as she took in the sight of him, bruised, battered, his denuded wings tucked uselessly against his back. Taking his face in her hands, she touched their foreheads together stroking along his cheek bones with her thumbs, careful not to break the scab there. “Oh Caine,” she breathed, a mixture of grief, sorrow, and relief evident in those short words. He could feel wetness on his cheeks and he wasn’t sure if it was him crying or her. She turned her face away towards the other people in the room. “Cut him loose,” she ordered, shutting down her emotions, “Once we’re clear I want to place wired to blow, understand?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” they answered as one.

*** 

It would take him months before he was ready for wings again, but only two weeks before he took to the air in a new pair of skyjacker boots. They were an updated model and didn’t yet feel like a part of him, but they would. He still didn’t know what he wanted to do about the brand; the Aegis had healed him smooth, vanishing even the lingering evidence of his splicer’s mark. However it had come to mean more than that; it was Jupiter’s symbol. She was loathe to brand him again, but he could tell she also wanted him to feel whole. Time and the knowledge that Usling was dead would heal the rest.

**Author's Note:**

> So I actually had never heard of whump fic before this particular prompt and had to do a lot of research (aka read lots of fic :) ) to figure out what I was going to do. After all that I read, and all that I made Caine endure, I couldn't quite bring myself to write a smut scene at the end. I hope the reunion they had still gives that sense of comfort he gets from Jupiter.
> 
> I know I also stretched line of duty to *captured* in the line of duty, but I hope the story still satisfies. 
> 
> Lots of Love to the JA community!  
> Love,  
> xidaer


End file.
